Her Heart's Desires
by Nana
Summary: COMPLETE! How would it feel to have her heart's desires known to Miroku? Sango is about to find out! A SangoxMiroku fic. Pls read and review!
1. Attack

**HER HEART'S DESIRES**

by Nana

Chapter I

**Attack**

* * *

**Author's Notes: (**Updated 11/16/02) I changed the format a bit and edited a couple of things to make them run smoother. This was my first fanfiction ever, and I really had a great time doing it. I hope you will enjoy!^^ Reviews are very welcome!

**Disclaimer**: _Inu Yasha _and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.

* * *

Hachi, the tanuki, glided along smoothly through the night sky. Above them, shining its soft, austere light, was a full moon. Below them, the vast forest lay in secret shadows.

Sango could feel the cool wind on her cheeks, but it was nothing compared to what she was feeling inside. It was though she had been plunged into the icy depths of the ocean. She did not see the majestic beauty of the night, did not care for the cool night breeze. Her full attention was focused on the man before her.

With numb, trembling fingers, she pressed the makeshift bandage on the houshi's shoulder, trying to stanch the alarming flow of blood. Miroku lay unconscious, his face and lips pale. Sango did not care for the fact that he was getting rapidly cold. "Please…please," she whispered. "Don't die…don't die on me like this!"

"How much longer?" she asked Hachi. Her tone came out more sharply than she had intended.

"I-I'm trying to go as fast as I can!" Hachi cried, agitated.

_Please…please hold on, Houshi-sama!_

This is just a nightmare, she thought. It has to be!

Dazed with pain and shock, she tried to remember what had happened. She could only recall bits and pieces.

* * *

It had been a late-night trek through the woods again. They had been searching for a place to sleep. The day had been long and fruitless.

Inu Yasha and Kagome had been in front, Shippo already falling asleep in the basket attached to Kagome's carriage (bicycle, she had called it). Sango remembered they had been arguing. About what, she could not recall. She herself was feeling very tired. And cold. And hungry. She had said nothing, made no sound. Miroku had already glanced at her once or twice. The fact that the houshi seemed to know she was uncomfortable was unnerving.

"_How can he know things he has no business of knowing?"_ she remembered thinking when it happened.

Exactly what, she could not remember. All she could recall was the houshi suddenly yelling her name. He had slammed into her, and then there was nothing.

When she came to, she had found Kirara by her side, nuzzling her awake. Something somewhere was painful, she thought, dazed. _What happened?_

Suddenly tense, she had quickly surveyed the scene. Something, whatever it was, had left a path clear through the trees. A few feet away lay the unconscious form of the priest. Fear had clenched abruptly at her gut.

"Houshi-sama!" she had cried, galvanized into action.

He had been bleeding. She had seen the blood seeping onto the grass below him. Frantically, she had torn off a piece of her yukata's sleeve and tried to bandage the wound on Miroku's shoulder. It was huge.

"Houshi-sama!" she had called, trying to shake him awake. Gods, he was out cold.

Inu Yasha? Kagome? Shippo? Where was everybody?

They were gone. Sango had felt herself grow cold. _Where are they? What is the meaning of this?_

_Naraku…_

They had to get out of here. That much had been certain. Kirara had already transformed, as if picking up her mistress' thoughts.

Sango had just put an arm around the unconscious houshi when she heard rustling in the bushes. Quick as lightning, she had dove for her boomerang. She had been about to let it go when out came…Hachi.

"Miroku-danna!" he had screeched.

* * *

_I should have used Kirara_, thought Sango. _But he's the only one who knows where Oshou-sama's temple is…_

So in the end, Hachi had transformed. But by the gods, could he possibly go any faster?

She tore her eyes off Miroku and quickly surveyed the landscape from above. So far so good…it seemed they were not followed…

_Calm down…calm down…_

What could have happened? Sango had very little doubt that this was Naraku's doing. What was it? Another youkai creation of his? Kagura, perhaps? No, the attack pattern did not fit her…and she had not sensed any youkai presence. But perhaps Houshi－sama did? He had yelled her name…did he shield her from the attack?

And Inu Yasha? What happened to him and Kagome? Had they possibly been taken? Or-

_He's splitting us up!_ Sango thought_. If that were so…_

"Hold on, Houshi-sama!" she said loudly, trying to drown the panic gradually coursing through her veins. "We're almost there!"

* * *

The elderly priest replaced the towel on Miroku's hot forehead, tutting loudly. It was simply too much for him, at his age and particularly after a drinking binge, to be subjected to this kind of aggravation in the middle of the night!

But the look on the girl's face, and Miroku's state, had effectively shut him up. The young priest was already developing a high fever by the time they got to the temple.

Sango waited as Mushin-sama inspected the ugly wound. She did not like the grave expression on the priest's face. He looked…almost afraid.

"You say you were not followed?" he asked.

"As-as far as I know. I cannot be sure," she said.

"We'd better make sure, then," said the priest as he got to his unsteady feet. "In the meantime…better prepare that medicine…"

"Oshou-sama…"

"He's been poisoned." The priest pointed a trembling finger on Miroku's shoulder. "A bite…"

Without another word, he wobbled off to the direction of the kitchens.

* * *

Sango kneeled beside Miroku's futon, a bowl of the steaming herbal medicine beside her.

There was no time to lose. He was already having chills, and Oshou-sama had said the medicine might take some time to act. Most importantly, the young houshi was unconscious. He would never know.

_But why? Why me? Why can't it be Hachi, for instance? _She wailed inwardly.

Because he was out with the elderly priest, securing the perimeters of the temple with a sealing charm to prevent the entry of any youkai into the temple grounds, that's why.

_He'll never know, anyway…_

With that, Sango took the bitter medication into her mouth, tilted the young priest's chin, pinched his nose, and sealed his lips with hers.

* * *

*****Oshou-sama (Mushin-sama)-** Miroku's foster father.


	2. Miroku

**HER HEART'S DESIRES**

by Nana

CHAPTER II.

**Miroku**

* * *

"It's done. With the barrier in effect, no youkai would be able to penetrate this temple," said Oshou-sama, watching Sango wring the towel of excess water before placing it back on Miroku's forehead. Her hands shook.

"Naraku is no ordinary youkai," she said.

"That's true," agreed Oshou-sama. "But under the circumstances, this is the best that we can do."

Sango nodded. "Would Inu Yasha and Kagome be able to find it?" she asked, and shivered as a thought, unbidden, rose to the surface. _If they're still out there…_

"They won't have any trouble, I'm sure." the elderly priest stood up on dangerously wobbly knees. "It is late. You'd better get some sleep yourself," he said, then paused. "By the way, that medicine should be given every two hours for the first day, at least."

_Ehhhh?_

The elderly priest turned a bleary eye on her stunned face. "It shouldn't be so difficult," he said.

"N-no, but…" she stopped, a blush slowly creeping up her face. _Dammit! But what, exactly? Of course, you'll be expecting too much if HE volunteers to do it!_

She took a deep breath. "All right. I'll take care of it."

She was, after all, not unreasonable. But one had to understand why she had her reservations.

After the elderly priest left, Sango could feel the fatigue catching up with her at last. She turned to look at Miroku.

He was still feverish, although the chills were subsiding.

_Houshi-sama…gomenasai. I have been a burden…_

After awhile, she tore her gaze away, feeling another hot blush slowly spreading through her face. Had he ever noticed her staring? She certainly hoped not.

_Enough of this nonsense! You're supposed to be level-headed, aren't you, Sango?_

With that, she started to prepare for bed.

* * *

She did not know how long she had been sleeping, but she was jerked awake by a sound. She listened carefully, her whole body instantly tense, a hand on her Hiraikotsu.

Apart from the sound of the distant waterfall, everything was silent.

Then…

"Sango…"

It was but a breath. Sango turned and realized it was Miroku.

Heart pounding, she kneeled beside him, her hand instantly on his forehead. He was still out of it, still feverish. His eyes were still closed, his breathing still a little ragged.

_He's dreaming. Of me?_

It was time for his medicine. Sango turned to the pot of herbal concoction and ladled out a bowl. She sipped it, trying to ignore the bitter taste, and quickly pressed her mouth to his. She realized that, with enough practice and a lot of willpower, she could perform this task easily enough.

She felt his firm lips move against hers, could feel him swallowing the liquid, choking. She lingered, feeling his breath rush from his lips to fan on her cheek. It was almost magical how that one simple act could bring on a wave of comfort and reassurance.

She surveyed his sleeping face. In sleep, the handsome priest looked even more innocently boyish, more open and vulnerable. When awake, he would present the world with this serene, smiling mask that hid the man and his thoughts completely. She decided she liked the face that she was seeing now better.

_Forgive me, Houshi-sama, if you were to awaken and find me looking at you. I cannot help myself. Later...later on, the sun will rise, and with the day must come all the decisions I must make for us both. Time has always been against us, but for now…just this once…will it be all right for me to indulge myself a little?_

* * *

She went to awaken the elderly priest at dawn to inspect the temple. Dressed in her taijiya outfit, she accompanied a disgruntled Oshou-sama all over the place, deciding and anticipating weak points and counter-strategies.

Sango was desperate for any news of the others, but after hearing her proposal of leaving the barrier for a while to search outside, the elderly priest had vehemently refused and in the end, she had to give in.

What was the point of creating a barrier, if she or Kirara were to be seen leaving from it? he had pointed out. And supposing something were to happen while she was away? No, it would be best to wait for Miroku to regain consciousness at least.

_I don't get it, _Sango thought, feeling her skin prickle with unease. _This is too easy-just like that time when we were fighting that giant spider before Chichiue and the others were killed…can it really be true that we were able to escape detection?_

A complete search of the temple and its grounds yielded nothing.

"Wasser marrer?" the priest slurred, irritated, as he peered at her dubious expression. "Don't you think my houriki would work?"

"It's-it's not that, Oshou-sama…" Sango bit her lip, and seeking a diversion, pointed to an open room. "Is…is this-this looks like a study."

It was a large room filled with scrolls stacked neatly in shelves. A large, low table stood in the center, calligraphy brushes stood in a jar. Paper rolls and ink were ready on the side.

_Was this how Houshi-sama had spent his time here? _she wondered.

As if sensing her thoughts, the elderly priest replied, "It is Miroku's favorite room in the temple."

"Honto?" Sango was intrigued, despite herself. "What was he like, when he was a child?"

"Naughty," came the short reply.

Well, she could have guessed that, but…

Before she could ask anything more, the elderly priest had moved on.

* * *

"Well, Kirara," she said, stroking the firecat's soft fur, "nothing seems to be amiss…and it is true it will be so much safer just to let Inu Yasha and Kagome find us, but…"

She trailed off, feeling another prickle of unease.

_It was just too easy…_

She glanced at Miroku's sleeping form beside her. _If only you would just wake up…_

At least the fever was gone. And from the look of the bandages on his shoulder, the bleeding had effectively stopped.

Looking at his serene face, Sango could feel her unease slipping away. In the hustle and bustle of daily life and travel, she never really had the time or opportunity to look at him fully the way she was looking at him now. She didn't have to worry about him suddenly catching her off guard, for one. In a way, this was a rare freedom-something of him she could keep for herself.

She shook her head, not able to believe her flights of fancy. _Just what is it with you?_ she chided.

It was time to give the medicine again. She was used to it by now.

But as she pushed the bitter liquid from her mouth to his, she could feel him shift his head and choke. She opened her eyes to find wide, violet eyes staring back.


	3. The Dream Master

**HER HEART'S DESIRES**

by

Nana

CHAPTER III

**The Dreammaster**

* * *

Sango could not believe what she was seeing, until Miroku started coughing and he blinked his eyes.

Quick as a flash, she tore herself away. Surprise, dismay and embarrassment rushed in, making her face burn. Behind her, Miroku continued choking.

"Sango," he coughed, seeking to rise.

"No, don't-your wound," Sango said, moving back. Relief was washing through her, a thrilling wave of pleasure.

He lay back, wincing. "How long?" he asked. "Where-?"

"Just-just a night. Sshh…don't talk…we're here in Oshou-sama's temple…"

He looked back at her with glazed eyes. "Mushin-sama? What about Inu Yasha? Kagome-sama?"

"I don't know. When I woke up, I only found you."

He let out a groan. "Listen, Sango-" he stopped when he felt something wet drop on his cheek. It took a moment before he realized what it was.

He stared at her as more tears came. He slowly moved his hand up, wiping her cheek gently. "You're crying," he said, as if puzzled.

"B-baka!" Sango cried. "I thought you were going to _die_!"

Sobbing with relief, she allowed him to take hold of her hand, twining his fingers through hers.

"Sango-gomenasai," he said, somberly. "I had you worried, didn't I?"

Sango wiped her face, suddenly embarrassed. "You-you shielded me from…from whatever it was, didn't you?"

Miroku nodded. "I didn't see what it was, though. I just felt it when it came-out of nowhere."

"I didn't feel its presence at all," said Sango, slowly.

Miroku closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Naraku," he said, "how could he possibly have grown this strong?"

Sango stared back at his face helplessly, longingly.

He had drifted back to sleep.

* * *

"So very easy," sighed the figure, its tone almost bored. It shook its head gently. "Can this really be the great Taijiya my master feared would be a nuisance?"

Miroku glared at it, then stared back at the huge mirror apprehensively as Sango knelt at his supposedly sleeping form. The real Sango's body was lying a few feet away from him, fast asleep.

_That isn't me, Sango!_ He wanted to shout. _Wake up!_

But it wouldn't have done any good. He had been shouting for hours. Sango was trapped in her own dream.

"You've been keeping to the shadows long enough," he snapped at the obscure figure. "Why don't you show yourself?"

But he was dreading it. Especially when its voice was so familiar. It spoke in Sango's voice.

"Oh, Houshi-sama," it said, at last moving onto Miroku's range of vision. "You really don't mean to say you don't know me?"

There stood Sango, face arranged in lines evoking how deeply hurt she was.

Miroku frowned. Beyond a doubt, this was a creature formed from Naraku. He could feel its youki as surely as if he were feeling the life force of its evil master.

"How is it," Miroku found himself asking, "that I only sensed your youki when you struck?"

"Sango" laughed. "It makes sense, as I have no form until I latch onto my prey-in this case, your partner. I draw my youki from the deepest secrets of the human heart. I am, after all, Yumemeijin. So long as the heart holds shadows, I can live."

It gestured to the sleeping Sango. "She really is disappointing. I was expecting at least a struggle, but she was practically falling asleep as you walked. From there, getting into her heart and her dreams was easy."

Bargaining for time, Miroku said harshly, "Yumemeijin-a dream master! You can control a person's heart by controlling dreams!"

"Oh yes," it said conversationally. "You're pretty fast, Houshi-sama. I can drive a person insane by the sheer force of nightmares, or make him sleep forever in a perfect, futile dream of happiness. Whichever way, I specialize in destroying minds."

It smirked at Miroku. "I suggest you sit back and see what her dream has to tell you. I have arranged for it to mirror her heart's desires. It is very interesting… you get to have a particular place in her heart's shadows. Apparently, you have caused her a great deal of pain. Still, she seems to think of you very often-the fool."

The sweet, mocking laughter that issued from those familiar lips was unnerving. Miroku's hand clenched abruptly on his staff.

Light glinted off the Yumemeijin's eyes. "Yes," it said, softly, "attack me. Disrupt the houriki you have enveloped upon yourself."

Miroku stopped himself in time. He watched as the Yumemeijin paced around him.

"I knew you wouldn't be so stupid," it said. "The only thing that's keeping you alive right now is that cursed houriki of yours. But in as much as I cannot get to you, you also cannot breach your protective barrier and use your Kazaana on me, can you?"

Miroku kept his silence.

"Not even to reach out to poor Sango," it continued. "I really wonder just how long you'd last, Houshi-sama, especially with my youki all around you."

True enough, unable to penetrate his houriki, the dream master had released a vicious, poisonous aura around him just in case he let his guard down.

It turned its attention back to the mirror. "In the meantime, this should help you make up your mind. You'll have to give in sooner or later-for Sango's sake."

* * *

The hours ticked by. Sango sat beside the sleeping monk, mending her torn yukata with a needle and some thread she had found in one of the rooms in the temple.

She sighed, feeling herself relax in the balmy atmosphere of the early afternoon. Outside, the small waterfall continued its merry chuckle and the crickets were starting their song.

Sango half closed her eyes. She felt as though she had come home. Back in those days when her village had stood indomitable, how many happy, idle afternoons had she spent playing with Kohaku and Kirara in a sunlit room in her own house? Or the many breezy afternoons, as light as the white, fluffy clouds in the sky, that she had spent idly picking flowers in a field?

Whatever happened to those days?

She felt something swell inside her heart-sorrow, anger, fear-all mixed together to form a gigantic wave, threatening to spill over in a torrent of tears.

She stopped herself.

No use thinking about things like that, she thought, letting out a shaky sigh. The wave inside her slowly subsided.

She glanced at her companion's sleeping face.

_So long as somebody needs you like this, _she thought, _so long as you have unfinished business to take care of, you cannot let your emotions rule over you…_

Her gaze over the sleeping houshi softened.

How many times, she thought, a rueful smile starting at the corners of her mouth, had she imagined herself playing this role? Playing the dutiful nurse to an injured houshi who cannot use his hands for any hanky-panky?

She sighed again, heavily. The problem with Houshi-sama was normally he's so self-sufficient and independent he would never think to ask her for anything. And in those rare instances when he did, he was usually well enough to grab at her, so what was the point in lending any assistance?

She let her sewing down for a minute, wondering what the young priest was dreaming about.

* * *

The Yumemeijin-Sango shook its head in disgust. It turned to a stunned Miroku and lifted a brow, mockingly.

"Caught every thought, did you? Can you imagine anything more insipid?" It said sarcastically. "She's doing a great job deluding herself about her "ideal" you, isn't she? "

It raised a hand and silvery, threadlike wisps of smoke started an intricate dance on its palm. "This is rapidly going nowhere," it muttered. "I can't believe that having you helpless is all that she dreams about!"

* * *

At long last, Sango felt Miroku stir.

She saw him open clouded, violet eyes, and felt her heart leap in a familiar, alarming way.

"Sango…"

How could a mere whisper like that send thrills through her? _How?_

Somehow, though, with the Houshi awake, Sango could feel herself distancing, closing up like a fan. It was surprising, but it was the most natural thing that came to her, sharpened by experience. In a way, it was the most important lesson she had ever learned.

"How are you feeling?" She sounded all right to herself. Calm, but not so distant.

"Dizzy," he said.

"It must be the drug," she said, looking at the pot beside her. "By the way, you need to take some of it now. Can you manage?"

"Only if it can be given mouth-to-mouth," he said, totally serious.

_Yeah, I bet_, she thought wryly, giving him a half-lidded, knowing look. It certainly looked like the houshi was nearly back to normal.

She pushed a steaming bowl toward him and edged away, suddenly embarrassed. After all, he did catch her administering the drug to him…that way.

_So what?_ her mind hissed. _It's not like we're intentionally kissing or anything. Who does he think is going to do it? Hachi?_

As if he could read her mind, she saw his lips slide up in a teasing smirk, warm malice dancing in his eyes.

"What's the matter, Sango?" he asked, softly. "Lost your nerve?"

She jumped as she felt his hand slide teasingly up her arm in a feather-light brush.

Sango could feel her color rising, and felt the familiar tug-of-war between irritation and being totally disarmed.

W_hat's the matter with you?_ Her mind screamed. _Disarmed? You can bet your Hiraikotsu he's going to make you look like a fool!_

Automatically, she swatted at his hand.

And because Sango was too shaken to think of a snappy comeback, she did the only thing that came to mind. _Change the subject. Fast._

"You can lie there and waste as much time as you like," she growled, "but we don't have much of it! Think about Kagome-chan and Inu Yasha!"

That shut him up. For a minute, his face looked blank. Sango thought grimly it felt good to have the last word, for once. But…

_I…I can't believe he hasn't thought of Kagome-chan and Inu Yasha…about our strange circumstances here-_

Suddenly, though, a spasm of pain crossed the houshi's features. Wincing, he tried to lift his hand to his head, only to drop it down midway.

"Houshi-sama!" Sango cried, alarmed.

He was unconscious again.

* * *

**Vocabulary:**

**Yumemeijin-** from "Yume" (dream) and "Meijin" (a famous person of his craft/ expert/master). Forgive the author as she took certain liberties in the translation, which may prove to be inaccurate or inappropriate. J


	4. Awakening

HER HEART'S DESIRES

by

Nana

CHAPTER IV

Awakening

**********************************

            Miroku watched as the fine threadlike smoke was abruptly disrupted and vanished from the Dreammaster's hand.  The fake Sango's eyes widened in disbelief. Immediately, it tried to weave some more, but no more thread was forthcoming.

            "Korewa, korewa! Is that the only thing you're capable of?" said Miroku sarcastically, even as he was torn between admiration and disappointment.

            _She…Sango's disrupted her dream by going against her own wishes!_ Thought the priest wonderingly.

            He had to do something, fast.  Already, the poisonous aura was sapping through his defenses, and he could not even move from his crouching position. 

            "Be quiet!" hissed the youkai, its fist clenched. It glared at the real Sango, fast asleep beside Miroku.

            It lifted both hands to form more thread, and an intricate pattern was soon established.

            Was he just imagining it, or did Miroku actually feel the youki around him fade just a little?

            _That's it  then,_ he thought. _It draws its powers from the darkest secrets of its victim's heart…if that were so…the solution will lie within your heart as well, Sango!_

***

            "There's no way the medication could _not_ have worked!" cried the aggravated old priest as he bent over Miroku.  "You say he just passed out like that?"

            Stricken with shock, Sango could only nod.

            Oshou-sama straightened and regarded her with bleary, suspicious eyes. "You…didn't try anything?"

            _If it's just possible to hit him in the face and knock him out cold…!_ Sango resisted the urge.

            "What I'm saying is, could it be possible," she said in a trembling voice, "that we've underestimated his injuries?"

            The elderly priest sat back. "It's always possible," he sighed, heavily. "I'll go and prepare something else, then."

            He got up to go, leaving her with her thoughts.

            _You…didn't try anything?_

            Of course not, you idiot! She thought to herself furiously. _Why would you even doubt _**that**_? The houshi was lucky enough not to get the usual treatment!  I mean I just _swatted_ at his hands! I didn't even slap him!_

She suddenly shot the priest a suspicious glare, wondering if he was just faking the whole thing. But one look at his face, the pallor of his skin, told her this was real.

            Drawing a shaky breath, she reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair from his brow. "What's wrong with you, Houshi-sama?" she whispered.

            Unbidden, something within her whispered, _if only you didn't push him away…maybe if you didn't push him away…why do you keep doing it?  Don't you want him?_

            "That's…STUPID!!!" she heard herself say aloud, startled at her thoughts.

            She couldn't believe it!  Did she just think that? How _could _she?! Maybe she needed to sleep.  She really was very tired.

            _Ack!!!!  _And what was her hand doing???!!!!

            Sango gasped when she realized where it was. Her hand had strayed from the priest's dark bangs to his forehead, her fingers nervously gliding down to touch his cheek.  She had slapped him hard so many times, but she had never touched him this way.

            His cheek felt cool and firm, and as her treacherous hand wandered to his slightly parted lips, she briefly wondered how it would feel against her own…

            She felt her will slip away, and slowly, dazedly, she lowered her head to his…her lips mere centimeters from his.

            _NOOOOO!!!!_

            With instinct borne from years of hunting youkai, she flung herself away from the priest.

            Breathing quickly, she looked around.  There was no trace of youki, none at all! But what just happened was enough to convince her that this was beyond her person, and beyond her control.

            She was very confused, and suddenly very frightened.

            Getting to her unsteady feet, she wondered what she should do.

***

            It had taken a few hours more, so that it was almost dusk, before he woke up.

            He let out a groan, and Sango hesitantly moved to his side.

            "Just lie back, Houshi-sama," she said. Her voice betrayed none of the turmoil she was feeling inside.

            "Can't," he gasped. "So very dizzy…"

            Sitting up, he rested his head on her shoulder. Sango froze for an instant before she awkwardly moved to cradle his head more securely to her. It was a good thing he couldn't see her face.  From the way it was burning, she could tell what color it had on.

            She briefly considered telling him about what happened to her earlier, but she quickly squelched the idea.  There was no way in hell she was going to tell the Houshi what her hand had been up to.

            "Better?" she whispered.

            He let out a sigh. "Yes."

            She tensed as she felt him curl an arm around her waist in a loose grip. Briefly, she considered if it were time to slap him, but his hand behaved, so she let him stay. The ensuing silence was threatening to stretch on forever, so she frantically cast about for something to say.

            "I--I was worried about you, when you--you passed out like that earlier," she stammered. 

            It took him a moment to respond. "You were worried…about me?"

            He sounded serious.

            "Of---of course I am!" she said. _But don't you go thinking along the usual path your perverted brain goes, you stupid houshi!_

            "Sango…"

            "Hai…?"

            "What would I do without you?"

            Could he hear her heart suddenly beating fast? Surely, surely he could hear it!

            "Wha--what kind of a question is _that?_"

            He sighed again.  "You must forgive a man, Sango," he said softly, "if he thinks he must thank you for saving his life."

            Could her face get any redder? He raised his head to look at her, a smile on his calm face…and something else. All of a sudden, all her doubts seemed very far away in her mind.

            "You…I---I didn't ," she stammered. "_You saved __me!"_

            "Arigatou, Sango," he said, seriously.

            Sango could feel her whole face burning as she panicked.  Conflicting thoughts once again sprang up where the houshi was concerned.

            He sounded sincere, he sounded sane. 

_What am I going to do??!_

            _He is__ being nice, after all…_

            _No, seriously, how many times do you have to fall for this trap before you learn anything, Sango? He must be doing it for some reason…! Don't tell me you need reminding!_

_            Sango!  The man is injured!_

_            He's done this before, so what makes you think he__ thinks you're special?_

_            He's so dense he'll never get it, but…_

_            …But above all, I'm just so glad he's doing better…_

            With this thought, Sango felt the tension of her will relax. "Houshi-sama," she said softly, "why is it that you're always stealing my line?"

            "Sango," he whispered, a hand softly closing in to cradle her waist.

            "Don't do that," she warned, the small gesture snapping her back to awareness.  "Do what?" he asked, with a hint of a laugh in his voice, but he remained weak and drained.

            "Your hand!" She actually managed to sound severe.

            "It's behaving," he said, trying to sound hurt.

            Could a girl's heart melt any faster?

            "Why do you keep doing it?" she hissed.

            He blinked. "Do what?" very innocently.

            "You know what!" she snapped.

            His eyes moved slowly from her face to his hand and back again. And what passed through his features then was something Sango had seen only fleetingly, and always in those unguarded moments when the priest thought nobody was looking.

            It was a mixture of despair, anger and desperate loneliness. And something else…something which could make the heart contract and stand still for a moment.

            Could it be longing she was seeing now in his violet eyes?

            It was enough to shock her out of her anger. She mentally shook herself. 

Was she imagining it? Could it be real? And yet, there would be moments such as this, in the woods or wherever they could be at the moment, when she would turn and catch him staring at her this way.

It had been unnerving only because it would be gone the next moment, to be replaced by a bright, smiling face that would appear politely inquiring. And she knew that, once again, the real houshi had slipped away, leaving her to wonder if what she had just seen was but a figment of her imagination.

What was he, then, aside from being a man with many masks?

It was true the man was an impossible lech, but it was also true he could be really gentle, kind and caring about women. 

He could be grossly callous about certain things (maintaining a perverted view of what women wanted was proof enough), and yet manage to say and do the right thing at the right time that Sango could not help but feel her heart going out to him.

_But there lies the problem,_ her mind sighed. _He's not exactly asking for your heart, is he?_

_But then…I'm not giving it away just yet, either…_

And what about all those times when she had to stand aside and endure his flirting and the past relationships he had had that just kept floating up?  How could she possibly bear to have him ask other women to bear his child? Was she really any good aside from being a convenient female body that just happened to be within reach of his lecherous hands? He never really seemed interested in her as a woman, preferring the village girls for a little bit of innocent (and not so innocent?) flirtation.

To be objective and fair, reason dictated that she shouldn't be so cross.  After all, it's not as if they had any relationship going, and the young monk didn't have to account for his actions to anybody--the Houshi can carry on with whoever he liked. She had no right to care.

Except her heart simply wouldn't allow it. No matter how hard she tried, her heart simply could not allow itself not to care.

_Get a hold of yourself, Sango!_ A part of her mind whispered fiercely. _Because whether he intends to or not, this person has the power to hurt you simply because you will allow him to do so…_

Another voice whispered, _but do you really want him to know how you feel?_

_????_

_ How do you feel, _exactly, _Sango?_

_I don't know…_

_What do you want from him?_

_…_

_What do you want?!_

_I want him to tell me what he's thinking of at this moment…_

"Sango," he began, his voice hoarse.

But she shied away. "Don't," she said, quietly.  All of a sudden, she didn't want to know.

***

At that, the Yumemeijin let out a scream of exasperation.

It grabbed the sleeping Sango by the hair, yelling, "WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU WANT FROM HIM??!"

From his position, Miroku waited, his heart seeming to have stopped as well. He had seen thread after thread disrupt from the Dreammaster's hand. Already, the Yumemeijin was weakening at an alarming rate. It had not been able to get to Sango, had not been able to bend the dream it had created for her to its will. Every time it was starting to triumph, Sango would suddenly do a turn that left even Miroku breathless. And all this without her even consciously knowing!

Sango sighed in her sleep. "I…"

"WHAT IS IT??!"

"I just want him…by my side…always…"

_Sango…Miroku thought, as unfamiliar warmth coursed through him. _

***

Sango froze as she felt Miroku's arm tighten demandingly at her waist.  Startled, she turned to look at his face.

"Sango…please…don't push me away now," he said, his tone tortured, almost angry.

Again Sango could feel her thoughts scattering.  She held on desperately, trying again and again to convince herself that she shouldn't let go.

She had dreamed of this situation before, of course she had, but it carried none of the sweetness she had always thought would accompany it.  It was fast turning into a nightmare.

_I don't want any of this!_

With that thought, she began struggling in earnest. To her horror, Miroku's arms tightened around her in a vice-like grip. Despite his injured state, the Houshi was remarkable strong as he fixed Sango's hands to her side, forcing her to him.

"Sango…don't fight me, don't fight this. I've known for a long time, and I know you do, too…aishteru," he said desperately.

At that, Sango suddenly relaxed against him, as though her body had turned to liquid. Without hesitation, he took her fully into his arms, his lips on her hair. Sango did not see his mouth slide up in an evil grin.

"Sango…if I only have the courage to tell you sooner--"he stopped as Sango pressed the blade of her koudachi at his throat. It was the first thing she had thought of bringing ever since what happened that afternoon.

Sango gazed back determinedly at the shocked violet eyes before her.

"Sango, what do you think you're--"

"Who are you?" she demanded.

***

The Yumemeijin screamed in pain as the last of its thread vanished from its hand.

At that, Miroku could feel the youki around him rapidly dissolving.  It was the right time to attack.  He had full use of his hands now, and it seemed that the Yumemeijin had been too busy to give him any notice.

But even as the youkai screamed, even as it dropped Sango, even as more of its power disappeared, his companion had not yet awakened.

 Miroku was not going to risk anything until Sango woke up, at least. Even now, she was still in the grip of the youkai. Until he was sure she was awake and in this world again, he could not move.

_I have to wake her up…but how…?_

Had the Yumemeijin gotten to her so deeply?

            He had to risk it, then.  Drawing out an ofuda and silently breathing a prayer, he let go of the flaming holy paper and watched as it fastened itself on the creature's forehead.

***

            Sango felt Miroku suddenly shout, his body going rigid as he released her, and drew a shocked gasp as she saw him convulse.  He fell back to the futon, writhing, as if in very great pain.

            "Houshi-sama!"

            "Sango!" his voice was hoarse.  

            Sango moved to his side, koudachi still drawn, unsure of what to do.  At her touch, he froze.  All at once, he turned to her, his hand gripping the neck of her yukata--hard. Despite the pain in them, his violet eyes had never been clearer, more lucid.

            Sango's mind had gone blank.  _What's going on?_

            But before reflex could bring her hand to use the sharp sword, before the next breath could be drawn, Miroku had raised himself almost to her level, face to face.

            "Sango…" he whispered. "Rescue me…rescue me and wake up!"

            With lightning speed, he took her mouth with his.  She whimpered as she felt his lips crush hers. It did not feel so much a kiss as a slap on the face.

            Without another thought, she brought down her free hand in a wide arc, and Miroku's head swiveled from the impact of her wide-open palm against his cheek

 He landed on the futon, but already, Miroku's body was changing, shifting into its original form.

Shocked, Sango heard the splintering of invisible glass and watched as the walls of the temple room gradually began to dissolve and melt to give way to darkness and the silhouette of trees. The feel of the soft futon under her shifted to the cold, rough feel of the forest floor.  She was back in the moonlit forest.

_What--?  But how--?_

"Sango!" shouted a familiar voice. Sango turned to see Miroku a few feet away, lying prone on the ground, unable to get up.

"Houshi-sama!"

With that, the last trace of sleep deserted her. Sango had awakened at last.

***********************************


	5. Sango vs Sango

**HER HEART'S DESIRES**

by

Nana

Chapter V

**Sango vs. Sango**

******************************

"Houshi-sama!" With that, Sango came fully to her senses.  She winced and grasped at her head, confused thoughts swimming, heart beating very fast, as though she had been dreaming and was unceremoniously nudged awake.

_A dream!_ Her eyes widened at the thought.  _Everything…everything was a dream?!_

She heard a faint whistle and was just in time to narrowly dodge a drawn koudachi as it flew straight at her. Drawing uneven breaths, she jerked her head at the source of the weapon, eyes narrowing as she registered the form it had taken.  But it was looking at Miroku.

"You damned priest!" it screamed. "I will deal with you later!"

It turned its attention back to Sango.

"You bitch!" It bit out.  "You could have died happy by giving yourself up to your dreams!  Why did you have to fight against everything you long for?"

"Who are you?" Sango asked, anger and outrage slowly seeping into her voice.

"Who do you think I am, Sango?" 

Sango felt as though she were looking into a mirror.  The same face looked back, the same voice spoke back.  Sango could feel the small hairs on her nape stand on end.

"The worst enemy you can possibly imagine," It said with a smirk. "The only way you can kill me, Sango, is to be able to master that part of yourself that you have no control of.  It will be tantamount to killing a part of yourself. Do you really think you can do it?"

"You can't be a part of me!" Sango cried.

"But I am. All your sadness, your loneliness, all your longing--all have coalesced to give me this form," it said, gesturing to the slender lines of its body. "All your hurt, your bitterness, your delicious sorrow. Now, then, Sango, can you honestly say you'll win against yourself?"

Sango made a wordless sound of fury. 

A part of herself…!  That part of herself that she did not want to face--all her rage, all her failings…but would she not be better off not having that side at all?

She made for her Hiraikotsu and without a second's loss threw the large weapon at the youkai.

The Yumemeijin dodged it easily, twisting its body gracefully in the air in as much the same way the true taijiya would before landing lightly on the ground. Quick as a flash it made for Sango before she could retrieve the boomerang as it came hurtling back.

Sango drew her sword just as the Yumemeijin sent its own crashing down at her, but it was enough; the Hiraikotsu landed with a crash on the ground and skidded off several meters away from the women, near Miroku.

"You cannot win this, Sango," the Yumemeijin said through the locked swords. "Give it up and die!"

Sango gritted her teeth, even as her hands began to tremble under the strain of keeping her sword in place. Her own strength, used against her, had taken her by surprise. She had not known she was this strong. It was frightening.

Without warning, she felt the youkai bring up a leg, kicking her hard on the chest, sending her sprawling.  But Sango recovered just in time to send a leg of her own crashing into the youkai's, tripping it.

"You may think you're me, but you don't know me at all!" snarled Sango, slightly bent over, a hand nursing the sore ache on her sternum.

The Yumemeijin let out a harsh laugh.  "Oh no?" It said, straightening up. "You may want to take a closer look at yourself. Nobody has had a heart as easy to read as yours."

"Shut up!" Sango yelled as she launched herself at the impostor.

Too late, she realized what the youkai had made her do. In her anger and desperation, she had lost focus.  In the final clash of swords, one was thrown aside. Sango's sword landed with its shaft halfway down the earth.

"And you say I don't know you well enough," The creature said, pointing its sword at Sango, "when I am all your weaknesses put together!"

A curious jangling sound came hurtling toward them, and it struck the youkai's sword aside before it could even register what it was. 

_Houshi-sama's shakujou! _Sango thought, diving for the staff before it could even land on the ground.  She caught it safely, turned to look at the priest's direction, and was aghast to find the youkai already in midair, right above his head.

Without thinking, she hurled the shakujou at it.  The holy staff may not have its power when not in its rightful master's hand, but it was heavy enough to serve the purpose Sango had designed.

It struck the creature on its back, throwing it off course.  It gave a scream of pain and rage, twisting in the air before landing on the ground.

"You move pretty fast when it comes to this weakness you have for him," it said, motioning to the priest.

Sango bit back her rage.  "He is NOT my weakness!" she said, loudly, the telltale wave of warmth slowly creeping up her cheeks. 

_Gods!_ she thought, exasperated. _Even now, even now…!_

"Tell me, Sango," the youkai said. "Why wouldn't you give in to your dreams? All your dreams had been shaped by your heart's desires.  You would have been better off in them!"

"I will never give in," panted Sango, "to something that is not true!"

"Oh, really?" It said, picking up a sword. "Let's see, then!"

Sango's face drained of color as the youkai made for Miroku.  She broke into a run, but the creature was still nearer the priest than she was.  And with no weapon close to her…

"NO!!!!  SANGO!" shouted Miroku as he realized what she was going to do.

Horrified, he watched as Sango dove between him and the charging blade.

"Ah hahahaha!!!!" laughed the Yumemeijin, eyes glinting in triumph. "Not your weakness indeed!  And you deny your feelings for this man?! Now you will die!"

Sango felt the priest put a shielding arm around her.  And as for the other hand…

The Yumemeijin screamed as one of Miroku's ofuda came flying as if from nowhere, fastening itself on its chest. It backed off as great spurts of energy came bursting out of its form.

"Sango…!" Miroku cried, pushing her toward her Hiraikotsu.  She did not need to be told twice.

A huge lunge and an arm length's distance away, she caught the giant weapon and twisting her body around, she let go of the boomerang. This time, her aim was swift and true.  She watched, numbed, as the Hiraikotsu caught the youkai on the chest, slicing through it easily.

A sharp intake of breath, and the Yumemeijin was no more.

***

_I can't believe it…can't believe this…_

Sango sank slowly to the ground, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly.  All around them, the dark youki was quickly melting, dissolving.  The moonlit forest was, once more, just as it had been.

Wincing, Miroku slowly got up.  "Sango…" he started toward the girl. But he stopped when he saw her suddenly bristle and turn away, refusing to look at him.

"Sango…I…"

"MIROKU!!!!! SANGO!!!!" The familiar shout came loud and clear in the dead silence.

Miroku turned just in time to see Inu Yasha come into view in huge bounds, Kagome following right behind him on her bicycle.

"Miroku-sama, we were so worried," Kagome said, breathless from the pursuit.  "What happened?  Sango-chan…?!"

"It was so strange," Shippou piped in, Kirara in his arms.  "You guys just disappeared like that…"

But Miroku was not listening.  He watched as Kagome got off her bicycle and rushed to Sango's huddled form. She did not answer any of Kagome's queries, and Miroku felt a strange tearing sensation cut through him as he saw Sango's shoulders shake as Kagome held her.

Inu Yasha and Shippou fell into uneasy silence when they noticed too.

"Oy, Miroku," Inu Yasha finally said, but very quietly.  "What exactly happened here?"

***

            "Yumemeijin?" Kagome asked, her eyes wide.

            "Hai," said Miroku.

            Kagome and Inu Yasha exchanged glances.

            "I smelled Naraku," said Inu Yasha. "That much was certain, but when Kagome and I turned to look for you, we couldn't find you.  There was no barrier, nothing."

            "You and Sango just simply disappeared," said Kagome.

            Silence fell around the little group.  Miroku stole a look at Sango, but she sat near the blazing fire, her face averted. 

 They had been able to find a small abandoned hut just outside the forest, and they had decided to settle down there for what remained of the night.

            "This Yumemeijin…" ventured Kagome, willing Miroku to continue.

            "It's a youkai like no other," said Miroku.  "It does not take form until it has selected a prey."

            _It was true,_ Miroku thought, his thoughts going back. He had been taken by surprise because the youki had sprang up from Sango. It was the last thing he had expected. From pure reflex, he had shielded himself with his staff, and his houriki had done the rest.

            It was all so frustrating.  A youkai made of nothing, that can draw its strength and form from human weakness. How were they supposed to fight something like that, when it can simply slip into anyone's heart and dreams and wreak havoc?

            But Sango won, and that gave him no end of comfort and reassurance.

            Miroku came out of his thoughts to find Kagome, Inu Yasha and Shippou looking at him expectantly. So he continued, "once it has latched onto its prey, it proceeds to destroy the mind systematically either by bringing on nightmares, or making the victim sleep forever in a dream of his or her own devising."

            "I don't get it," said Inu Yasha, shaking his head. "You said it attacked Sango--made her sleep--but what has it got to do with you? Why did it have to make you a witness?"

            "Inu Yasha…" Kagome tried to shush him for his bluntness, but she had to admit it was a good question.

            "I've been thinking it over," said Miroku, slowly. "There are two possibilities--one, because it could not get through my houriki to attack me--"

            "It could have just made Sango disappear first--you didn't have to be there," interrupted Inu Yasha, impatiently.

            "And, two--" Miroku made as though he didn't hear Inu Yasha, "it tried to get to me by getting to Sango, like taking out two birds with one stone. It was strange, because memories of Kohaku and what happened to him should have been more painful, more difficult to Sango.  But it did not tap into that.  Instead--"

            Miroku stopped when he became aware of the others leaning in even more closely, taking in every word.

            Sango had had enough. "How much were you able to take in?" she bit out from where she sat.

            All heads whipped around to her, startled.  Miroku opened his mouth, but no words came out.

            "_How much_???" Sango turned to him, and Miroku felt a familiar heart-rendering tug as he saw unshed tears gathering in her eyes.  

            He briefly considered lying, just to appease her, but he knew Sango did not deserve that.

            "Sango…" he said softly, apologetically.

            It was enough.  Sango got to her feet quickly, and without looking at anyone else, went out of the hut.

            "Sango-chan!" Kagome cried, getting to her feet as well.

            "Don't, Kagome-sama," Miroku said, quietly.

            Kagome turned to him, dismayed and confused.

            "Let her be."

            "What happened?" Inu Yasha asked, turning back to Miroku. "Oy!  Miroku!"

            But Miroku did not answer. If truth be told, he doubted very much if he could allow Inu Yasha to live after hearing the story.

****************************


	6. Epilogue: The Dawn Flower

Her Heart's Desires  
  
Epilogue  
  
The Dawn Flower  
  
Miroku sat on the far corner of the hut, aware of the uncomfortable silence of his companions. They had tried to settle down to catch some sleep before sunrise, but none of them had felt the least bit like sleeping, especially when so many questions hung in the air. And Miroku was showing unusual resolve in not letting them in on the big secret.  
  
How much longer is she going to stay away? He wondered, growing uneasy. Outside, the temperature was rapidly dropping.  
  
And yet, to go outside now would be fatal. He could not bring himself to face Sango just now. Too much had happened. He knew that any word of comfort would not be able assuage the fact that he had been witness to a violation of Sango's privacy. And nothing he was going to say or do was going to make her feel better.  
  
What happened had been frustrating. It had also been elating. How could a thing like this bring on such conflicting emotions? He should by all rights be as disgusted as Sango, but he was not. All the time he had to think her thoughts and share her dreams, he had tethered from anger and desperation to…something else. Sango's dreams had triggered something else which could set a man's pulses running.  
  
Miroku was not inexperienced in dealing with matters of the heart. And to be perfectly honest, this was not the first time he had felt his pulse quicken at the thought of a woman. But he was wily enough not to get caught in the complications.  
  
Although he knew very well he had some effect on most women, and knew that flirtation can be intoxicating, Miroku knew it was unwise to let go of the reins of one's heart completely.  
  
And so he could happily continue with his routine, getting carried away with one beauty after another, asking her his charming and ever-so- improper question, meaning and at the same time not meaning it, while deep inside, his heart remained peaceful and secure in its knowledge that no woman owns it.  
  
But the strange warmth--almost a glow--that this particular woman (Sango, of all people!) could elicit deep within him was something he was not familiar with. Nor was he prepared for the sharp, twisting pain he had felt when he saw her being manipulated into kissing him, only to watch her pull back just in time.  
  
Surely, he should be applauding her for having such self-control. So why was it he was feeling almost…unhappy about it? Was he not annoyed with her for following him around? Did it not puzzle him to see her get fuming mad over his flirting with another girl, and then get angry with him when he tried to show her some attention? He could not understand why Sango was disgusted with the way he carried himself about with women, when so many others were totally flattered.  
  
For him, Sango was a riddle, and many times, Miroku preferred to keep her in his mind that way. It was in his nature to find it difficult to get too close to anyone. For someone whose fate it was to carry his death literally in his hand, it was so much better to push people away rather than bear the consequences of seeing them get hurt on his account.  
  
And yet…there would be times when he would watch her covertly, and feel this overwhelming urge to reach out and hold her, to tell her that everything was going to be all right; because Sango-- shorn of her armor during unguarded moments-- was a totally different person whom Miroku saw very rarely. It was all there in her eyes, no matter how much she tried to hide it. Certainly, there was deep sadness, but it was accompanied with a tinge of something Miroku had not understood and had tried to analyze when he allowed his thoughts to wander.  
  
Now that he thought of it, he was almost sure it was something close to tenderness--the very same look she had given him in her dreams, when she sat watch over him.  
  
Could it be…that she thinks of me sometimes?  
  
He could feel a familiar twisting sensation inside, although it was not exactly pain. He pushed away the thought, mildly alarmed.  
  
And mildly…thrilled?  
  
He groaned inwardly, not at all comfortable with the sudden twist his treacherous mind had taken.  
  
Don't let it get even more complicated than it already is, the rational side of his brain whispered sagely. Don't let it…WHAT ARE YOU DOING???  
  
The others were finally asleep. It was time.  
  
Even as a part of his mind was shouting warnings, Miroku watched detachedly, almost wonderingly, as his body rose to its feet on its own accord in one graceful, fluid motion. He passed by Inu Yasha, noting that the demon had not stirred from his usual sitting position against the wall.  
  
A whisper as the wooden door slid open and close, and he was gone.  
  
Kagome waited for a few seconds, just to be sure, before turning on her back in her sleeping bag, sighing.  
  
"That stupid bouzou!" muttered Inu Yasha, finally raising his head. "You'd think he'd wait until morning!"  
  
"That's because you wouldn't sleep sooner," Kagome admonished. She turned her head to look at Inu Yasha as he got to his feet.  
  
"Wait--don't go out," Kagome advised, stopping the dog demon in his tracks.  
  
He turned back to her, surprised. "You mean you don't want to know what he's going to do?" he asked.  
  
"Of course I do," she said, beginning to smile mischievously. "But you can hear everything that's going on outside, even if it's over a distance, can't you?"  
  
**** 


	7. Epilogue II: The Dawn Flower

Her Heart's Desires  
  
by  
  
Nana  
  
Epilogue II  
  
The Dawn Flower  
  
It took him a while to reach the gentle slope of a hill not far from the hut, but he knew she would be there. Where else, except on the slopes of a grassy refuge away from prying eyes?  
  
He stopped when he came to the top and spotted her, sitting all alone below. How many times had he come across her this way? He from above, looking down at her, and she with her back to him, staring off into the horizon. And in between them was this chasm Miroku now thought was better off not crossed.  
  
Now, as he looked down at her, Miroku felt the first stirrings of panic within him. This was not going to be any ordinary encounter with Sango, and he was going to consider himself lucky if he could get away from it all with just a slap on the face.  
  
Once more, the voice of reason surged up to argue against what he was going to do. He had run away from these kinds of situations before, and he understood the importance of backing down when the need arose. It may not be right, but in most cases it served its purpose well. To avoid getting hurt by engaging in evasive maneuvers was to him a lesson of paramount importance.  
  
Sango is strong--she will get over it, his mind whispered insistently. Compared to what she has gone through, this is certainly nothing…  
  
Indeed, he would have followed what his reason dictated, had he not seen Sango shiver ever so slightly.  
  
****  
  
Sango shivered, and for the hundredth time considered giving in to logic and turning back to the hut. But she could not bear the thought of seeing him there. Not now, anyway. She knew it was stupid, as she would have no choice but to join the group when the sun rose, but here she was, and here she would remain, and nobody was going to make her budge an inch.  
  
Besides, the cold was doing her good. It gave her something to think about aside from what happened.  
  
She sighed shaliky. Well, if there was anything that could help salvage what remained of her pride was the fact that no tears were spilled. She was damned if she was going to show him tears.  
  
But it's so unfair! She wailed inside. Whatever did she do to deserve this?  
  
For some strange reason, a mental picture of the houshi with a smug expression on his face kept popping up in her mind, and Sango shuddered with humiliation.  
  
Well, you can always kill him if he dares to pull a stunt like that in front of you, she thought, deriving comfort from the sudden flare of anger she felt. At least, it abated the misery somewhat.  
  
Only, Sango knew that it was not his fault, as much as it was not hers. She was violated, yes, but when she thought about it, the houshi was also being held against his will.  
  
She frowned as the thought sank in further. Why was she feeling so charitable? She was sure the priest must have enjoyed himself a little at her expense, so why would he complain? She doubted very much if being held against his will was what the priest was worrying about at that time…  
  
She huffed silently, buoyed by the temporary comfort of righteous indignation. When the sun rose, she would feel sufficiently recovered to face him, and she was going to make sure he would have no opportunity to open this ridiculous subject. As far as she was concerned, this thing was dead and buried, and it was going to remain--  
  
"Sango."  
  
She jumped at the sound of his voice, and whipped around to see him standing just behind her. Her mind seemed to have frozen along with the rest of her body, because all of a sudden she could not think coherently.  
  
For a moment, she considered giving into her instinct to get up and run for it, but that was too silly and overdramatic. Instead, she turned her head away, aware of the telltale flush suffusing her entire face.  
  
She had not heard him approach at all! Frequently, his shakujou would herald his presence, but it seemed he didn't bring the staff with him now.  
  
From behind her, she heard him say, "You must be cold. Why don't you come inside the hut?"  
  
She did not say anything. Indeed, she felt as though her throat had seized up.  
  
He waited a few minutes, and seeing she had made up her mind to be obstinate, drew a silent sigh.  
  
Sango heard the whisper of cloth, and before she could register what the houshi was doing, felt the warm, rough length of his kesa settle on her shoulders. Miroku wrapped it securely around her, tucking the ends in under her unresisting arms. He then settled down next to her, an arm's reach away, not quite looking at her.  
  
Sango stole a look at his serene face, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. He was so overwhelmingly near…she couldn't bear it. She had to get away, but her body was refusing to obey.  
  
They remained that way for a long time, long after the moon had set, just as the first rays of dawn drew a rosy line on the far horizon of mountains.  
  
Miroku was staring at the field below the slope, at the ugly, unruly patch of weeds that tangled into each other in wild disarray before them. It took some time for him to register what they were, and smiled a little as he recognized the plants, thinking vaguely that their presence here and their very implication were quite apt in describing the enigma that was the woman beside him.  
  
He finally broke the silence.  
  
"How did you know it wasn't me?"  
  
Sango shot him a look full of misgiving, wondering how he could even think to ask. It was so obvious she wasn't going to answer THAT!  
  
"…When it said that word."  
  
Oops…  
  
Miroku turned to her, not sure he understood.  
  
What the hell…  
  
"Aishteru," Sango finally said, and she felt proud of the fact she could hold his gaze unwaveringly. "When it said aishteru, I was sure."  
  
It took the houshi a moment to respond to that.  
  
"You did very well," said Miroku, simply.  
  
Sango stared at him, surprised. Something in his voice caught her attention…no, it could not possibly be. How could she even think of saying she had heard disappointment in his carefully casual tone?  
  
She had promised herself she wasn't going to say anything, but she did, and once she started, she found she could not stop; the torrent of words kept pouring out to make up for the tears that had been held back. Sango felt as though the overflowing dam inside her heart had finally broken, and she was powerless against the onslaught of her emotions. And yet, it left a feeling of being cleansed--it felt good to unburden herself at last to this person, the unwilling witness to it all.  
  
Of course…of course she should have wondered how in the world Hachi would so conveniently show up just like that. She didn't even know how the tanuki could be contacted! And how about Mushin-sama and the temple? And finally, there was the priest himself…  
  
Through it all, Miroku listened, his face betraying nothing. Finally, he murmured," The Yumemeijin was interesting, because it could read what is inside the heart and draw its strength from there. But little does it know that its limitation lies in its power…"  
  
"What do you mean?" Sango asked.  
  
"It thought that controlling a person is as simple as being able to read the heart and manipulate dreams. It thought everything can be twisted to suit its designs. That was why it lost when it tried to outmaneuver you…simply because your heart's desires had been simple and pure. And no amount of malice the Yumemeijin could interject could ever taint them."  
  
Miroku's look softened as he continued, "It cannot understand this aspect, you see. It had assumed immediately that it could manipulate you by using something it had read from your heart, corrupt you into making a mistake with me, make you sink deeper into your own shadows so that you can never find your way back."  
  
"My shadows…" Sango said, almost inaudibly. "It had said it was a part of me-- it drew its strength from that side of me. I told that thing it could not possibly know me that well, because I myself don't know that part of me very much. I've tried so hard to control it, but I've always known it could lead to my downfall--I would give anything to destroy that part of myself."  
  
"Because your shadows represent all the flaws of your person?" Miroku asked, gently.  
  
She nodded, slowly.  
  
"It thought so, too…it thought the dark side of a person was his undoing. What it didn't know, and what Sango does not realize," Miroku continued, "is that Sango would not have been the strong, brave, capable Sango before me now had it not been for her so-called shadows."  
  
He paused as she abruptly turned her head away, and waited patiently as she collected herself. When she had sufficiently recovered, he went on, "It is man's fate to live a life of pain and unease. This much we cannot do anything about, but it is his challenge to rise above it all, and thus find the strength in his person."  
  
Sango stared off into the sunrise, not sure if she could look at this man without breaking down. Because this was what she was afraid of in the houshi--he could be incredibly indecent at times, and yet at other times, can systematically bring down all her defenses in a few, softly spoken words.  
  
These were the times which proved most trying to the woman in Sango, because she could not help but believe that this lecherous houshi understood her more than she would ever dare to admit. And to think she had long assumed that she could not count on his every word to be true.  
  
Sometimes, she could almost fool herself into thinking he cared for her a little. In many ways she had to be thankful his treacherous hand had to get in the way and knock some sense into her.  
  
But right now…right now was different. And Sango knew it. No matter how untrustworthy the priest was, she had realized that he would not take advantage of her when she was vulnerable.  
  
It made her uncomfortable. She was used to the lech, but to have him here on his best behavior was something Sango had come to regard with more than faint alarm. And it was important for Sango to set the record straight with this guy, so she went ahead and told him what was bothering her.  
  
"…It had felt so real, but you must not think it was true," she finished almost severely, her tone heavy with warning. "I will not have you think it was all true because it wasn't--"  
  
Miroku smiled ruefully. "We will probably never know where the truth ended and where the falsehood began…although I would probably be lying if I said I was not flattered with how Sango responded to the situation."  
  
He turned to savor her thunderstruck expression, his smile mischievous.  
  
"You must forgive a man, Sango," echoed Miroku, "if he thinks he must thank you for saving his life.  
  
"It's almost time." He rose to his feet and offered her a hand. "Come. I want to show you something," he said.  
  
She took the proffered hand reluctantly, and followed close behind him as he led her to the patch of weeds before them.  
  
"What are you going to do?" Sango asked suspiciously, not sure she liked the idea of wading knee-deep in a field of weeds.  
  
"They're known as Yo-ake no Hana," he told her.  
  
Sango blinked. "Dawn Flowers?" She repeated. "Why are they called that?"  
  
Miroku smiled. "Watch," he said.  
  
At the first rays of daybreak, Sango watched as bloom after bloom seemed to unfurl from the weeds right before her eyes. Before long, they were standing in a field of white, fragrant flowers.  
  
"The flowers of this plant cannot survive with strong sunlight, yet the plant needs the early morning sun for its life cycle. The plant, therefore, only blooms during the early morning hours. A difficult thing, really, to catch it with its flowers out," explained Miroku.  
  
For the first time in many days, Sango smiled, unable to mask her delight as her hands glided over the silky petals around her wonderingly. She gave the houshi an inquiring look.  
  
He shrugged. "A field of flowers--I seem to remember it was one of your favorite memories," was all he said.  
  
With that, Sango gave him a rare, soft smile. "Arigatou," she whispered.  
  
A strange thing, this Dawn Flower, Miroku thought as he watched Sango, tenderly. Who would have known that for a few, short hours every day, a seemingly ungainly plant could blossom into a thing of beauty?  
  
In all beings there lies within them a little bit of mystery, and Sango was no different. And to have him witness, however briefly, what lies within the woman was to Miroku a blessing sent surely from the Buddha himself.  
  
Miroku shook his head, bemused. To what great deviser of stratagems does he owe this sudden turn of events? Certainly not Naraku. When Fate works to bring about a moment of understanding between two individuals, who was he to stand in its way?  
  
After what happened, I cannot say I have come to know you completely, my dearest Sango…that is something which no mortal can ever claim with complete confidence. But to have been able to get a glimpse of what your heart fondly holds as its secret, is something one will carry with him for a lifetime. Too many things pass by in this world without getting noticed. Suffice it to say, you will not be one of them…I won't allow it…  
  
Sango gazed back at the priest, her heart calmer than it had been for a long time.  
  
In the end, there really was no need for words.  
  
***************************  
  
Still pretty much a draft. Will try to polish it soon. Please R&R and tell me what you think. Thanks! 


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